


extraordinary

by SleeplessAnon



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:44:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15209105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleeplessAnon/pseuds/SleeplessAnon
Summary: “What was your name, again? Kiera?”“Kara Danvers,” you say.“Okay, Kara Danvers,” she says, holding out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Lena Luthor.”“I know,” you tell her, shaking her hand anyway.(in which kara is extraordinary in the most ordinary ways)part ii is now up!





	1. part i (in which something begins)

It’s strange, for you. The most difficult things to do in life are the most ordinary.

Remembering to smile when someone tells a joke, even if you don’t understand it. Remembering to make eye contact, even if you’re uncomfortable. Remembering to say you’re doing well when asked, even if you’re not. These ordinary things never come naturally to you, and it makes you feel like an alien sometimes.

You told Clark this, once. He told you that in order to become extraordinary, you had to conquer the ordinary. Then he picked up the little cards with facial expressions on them again and asked you to identify the emotions on them.

You knew, then and there, you’d never be extraordinary.

* * *

 

The first time you see Lena Luthor is at the trial. She sits in the witness box, not ten feet away from her brother, and stares only at the attorney directly in front of her. When he walks away with a “No further questions,” and Lex’s attorney rises for the cross examination, her eyes move to the floor and stay there for the remainder of her time on the stand.

You don’t really hate her like you thought you would. To be honest, you’re not even sure if you hate Lex. Maybe you do. But that kind of thing is drowned out by the sadness and loneliness.

You’re fascinated by Lena Luthor. Several years older than you, yet still a child herself, arriving to testify against her own flesh and blood; all without a hint of emotion in her eyes. It’s the first and only time you think that the two siblings are truly birds of a feather. In fact, in some ways, you wonder if she’s worse. Because Lex betrayed Clark, his best friend, but Lena betrayed her family. You think of Clark’s still, pale face in the casket, and you wonder, if the circumstances were reversed, could you have done the same?

Nevertheless, her testimony is nothing short of damning. But Lex’s attorney is good, and next to you, Lois watches with gritted teeth, your hand gripped tightly in hers, as the judge sentences Lex to 25 years - the minimum sentence for first degree murder.

* * *

 

You turn 13 that summer, and Lois leaves you with the Danvers family. Eliza and Jeremiah are kind and welcoming, and Alex is wary, but not cold. She’s exasperated by you at first, as many people are, but she’s sympathetic enough not to say anything about it, and that’s more of a kindness than she realizes. You spend the most of the summer with her in the house, because Eliza and Jeremiah work long hours and Alex isn’t old enough to even get her learner’s permit. For the most part, Alex keeps to herself, listening to loud music in her room and only coming out to eat lunch. But sometimes, on a particularly nice afternoon, she’ll come out and help you with the exercises that Clark used to do with you. Like that, your first summer without Clark comes to an end.

Alex is in high school, so she only walks with you part of the way to school each morning, so at first, she doesn’t know about the bullying. To be honest, you don’t really care all that much. You’ve never cared for what people think of you to begin with, so the name calling and the occasional shove never bothered you.

But the bullies make a mistake one day and follow you back as you’re walking home, still taunting and mocking. They seem to be getting frustrated at their inability to illicit a response from you, so their attacks are growing a bit more aggressive. Eventually, you can see the fork in the road where Alex sometimes waits for you after school. (“Parents’ orders,” she always insists gruffly, although she always matches pace with you and talks quietly to you without expecting any response.) Lucky for you, she’s there today.

At first, she makes as if to wave to you, but her hand stops short when she sees that you’re surrounded by kids. At first, she smiles a little, thinking you made friends, but it quickly transforms into a snarl when one of them kicks at your heels, causing you to stumble a bit. The rest of the kids laugh, and another one shoves your back. You go sprawling forward, scraping your palms against asphalt as you reach out to catch yourself.

Above you, a roar: “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

You look up to see Alex, all 5’5” of her, sprinting up the road with the devil in her eyes.

The bullies, rightly terrified, turn tail and run. Alex reaches you, and you think she’s going to stop, but she passes right by you, locked in on her targets.

“Alex,” you say, but she doesn’t hear you. You suck in a deep, deep breath. _“Alex!”_ you shout, raising your voice for what feels like the first time in years. She skids to a halt, and turns back to you, suddenly worried.

“Shit,” she mutters when she reaches you, “Are you okay?” She looks you over, concern on her face.

“Yeah,” you reply, and you suddenly feel like laughing, so you do. “You were so scary,” you giggle.

She frowns fiercely, brushing your bangs aside to see if you have any injuries. “Did you hit your head? I’ve never heard you yell like that before. And you’re _giggling._ Why did you yell like that anyway?” She’s out of breath and rambling and wide-eyed, and you can’t stop laughing.

“Because,” you say between giggles, “you can’t hit an _eighth grader,_ Alex. You’ll get in trouble.”

She stares at you, baffled. But you don’t stop laughing, and she soon joins in.

The two of you laugh all the way home, where a hot dinner and smiling faces wait, and you feel an odd warmth in your heart that night when you climb into bed.

* * *

 

You arrive in National City straight out of university, and a lot of things about you are different, but a lot more are the same. Being “normal” is still hard. Alex says you’re better at it, although you aren’t really that sure.

Your new job is as assistant to one Cat Grant of CatCo, whose volatile and demanding nature is proving to be an immense challenge. But it’s your first job, so you’re determined not to lose it - at least, not because you gave up. Whether or not Cat Grant ends up firing you for your apparent incompetence remains to be seen, but you’re trying to give her as few reasons to do that as possible. Every day feels like you’re holding on by a thread, but at the end of the day, you’re still gripping the thread, and that’s what counts, right?

Anyway, you had been anxious to work with Ms. Grant because she was the journalist who had reported on the Clark Incident, but to your relief, if she had recognized you, she hadn’t mentioned it as of yet.

* * *

 

The second time you see Lena Luthor, it also serves as confirmation that Cat Grant knows exactly who you are, because it’s entirely an accident on your part.

The day begins ordinarily enough, with Ms. Grant listing off, rapid-fire style, what needs to get done for the day. By this point you’re an expert at keeping her schedule, so it throws you off when she pauses. She blinks down at the tablet in her hands, and frowns slightly.

“Ms. Grant?” you ask tentatively, pen held in anticipation over your clipboard.

“Ah, yes,” she says, suddenly and too loudly. “At 2:00 pm, I’ll need you to sit in on the board meeting and take notes. An important client called for a meeting that I can’t reschedule, and there are some agenda items that need to be addressed as soon as possible, so I’d prefer that the board meeting went on without me.”

You’ve never been great at social cues, but you’ve gotten used to some of Ms. Grant’s mannerisms, and something feels a little off. But you also know better than to pry, so you nod your head and write that down. It’s highly unusual that Ms. Grant skips a board meeting, but you’re not about to question anything to her face.

She finishes up her list with the usual high energy that you’ve come to expect of her, and you scamper off to start taking care of business.

2:00 comes around, and you make your way to the conference room, feeling nervous. You’ve never been to one of these without Ms. Grant, and although your role is still more or less the same, it feels a lot more nerve-wracking than it did before. Quietly, stern-looking men and women file into the room, taking their seats, and you fidget, uncomfortable, watching the empty chair at the head of the conference table.

The meeting is more or less exactly the same as the previous ones, content-wise, but it’s evident that Ms. Grant’s love of efficiency is what kept all those other meetings relatively short. This meeting drags on, and eventually, the agenda item that the board members are all seriously debating is called to a vote; pretty standard practice, all in all. The problem is that without Cat Grant, the number of people in the room is even, and the room is split seemingly down the middle on the topic. And since nobody is expecting _you,_ of all people, to be the one to break the tie, the room quickly dissolves into confused murmurs, nobody quite sure of what to do.

Under ordinary circumstances, you would have just noted this and continued to sit quietly, but this meeting full of people you didn’t really know is dragging on for _way_ too long and you’re getting anxious and flighty. So you take a deep breath, and stand up.

You instantly regret this as suddenly all the eyes in the room are on you, and all the oxygen has suddenly left your lungs, but you’ve committed, and you’re standing now, so you might as well.

“I - I’ll go ask Ms. Grant to weigh in on this,” you say in a tiny, cracked voice. Luckily, the room had been stunned into silence by your boldness already, so everyone hears you and nods in agreement, and you practically sprint for the door.

But when you reach Ms. Grant’s office, her important client is leaving, and you know exactly why you were in that board meeting in the first place.

She doesn’t recognize you, which is to be expected, as the two of you have never met.  You, on the other hand, know immediately who she is. Even without the personal connection, she’s been in the news lately, something to do with Luthor Corp, although you don’t know the details - you make a point to ignore any headlines with the Luthor name in them.

She’s in a hurry to leave, clearly upset, even you can tell, and her head is turned toward Ms. Grant as she reaches for the glass doors, so she doesn’t see you at first. So that’s why when the door swings forward, it hits you square in the face, and you go toppling over backwards, clutching your nose.

She stares at you for a moment, stunned, then she’s crouched next you. “Oh my god, ohmygodohmygod, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

Still feeling dazed, you stare back at her, uncomprehending. A trickle of wetness runs between your fingers, and you realize you’re bleeding. “No,” you say. _Too honest._ You forget you’re supposed to say yes.

“Oh my god,” she says again, mortified.

“Kiera,” Cat Grant’s sharp voice cuts through your confusion, and you whip your head up. Her face is a tight mask, giving away nothing. “I’ve called for a company car to take to you the hospital. It’ll be here in about ten minutes, so head downstairs and wait,” she instructs, handing you a few tissues. You want to say it’s unnecessary, but Ms. Grant puts on her no-nonsense expression, so you accept the tissues and stand up.

Still crouched down, Lena Luthor glances between the two of you nervously, unsure of what to say. With the tissues pressed to your face, you try your best to offer what you hope is a polite smile, although your face hurts a lot and you’ve never been good at those in the first place. Then you turn and make your way to the elevator.

You’re sitting next to reception when she bursts out of the elevator.

“Hey,” she says breathlessly.

“Hello,” you say back.

“Um, I - I wanted to say - just - I’m really sorry.”

“You already said that,” you point out. “And it’s okay. I don’t really think it’s necessary to go to the hospital, but Ms. Grant is hard to argue with.”

“Tell me about it,” she mutters. “I - hey, the company car will probably still be a while longer, and I’m parked right outside. If you - if you want, I can just take you.”

“That’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to be alone in a car with her. “The driver is already on his way, it would be bad to waste his time.”

She blinks, clearly not expecting that response. “You’re right,” she sighs. “Still, I want to make it up to you,” she continues, fumbling around in her purse. “Here - this is my card. When you’re done at the hospital, please contact me. I’ll take care of whatever expenses there are.”

You glance down at the card, then up at her. “Okay,” you say simply, just wanting her to go away. She breathes out a sigh of relief.

“What was your name, again? Kiera?”

“Kara Danvers,” you say.

“Okay, Kara Danvers,” she says, holding out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Lena Luthor.”

“I know,” you tell her, shaking her hand anyway.

“Figures,” she says with a small smile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, although you’re not sure if it is yet.

“Nice to meet you, too,” she replies. “Say, by any chance -”

Before she can finish her question, the car pulls up by the front doors. “I have to go now,” you say.

“Don’t forget to contact me,” she reminds you.

“I won’t,” you reply. You wish you could.

* * *

 

As expected, your nose is perfectly fine and after another fifteen minutes, it stops bleeding. You’ll have a bit of bruising for a few days, but all in all, it’s not a terrible injury.

Standing outside the hospital entrance, you look at the card Lena Luthor had given you with a sigh. You don’t really want to call her, but Clark had instilled in you a commitment to keeping promises, and you suppose this counts as one.

You take a few deep breaths to prepare yourself, and then dial the number.

An unfamiliar voice answers, and you almost drop the phone in panic. “LCorp, this is Jess, how can I help you?”

You move over to a bench and steady yourself before replying. “Hello, this is Kara Danvers. Lena Luthor asked me to contact her.”

“Ah, yes, Ms. Danvers. I’ll transfer you over to her right now.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

There’s a click, and Lena Luthor’s voice comes over the line. “Kara! I hope everything is alright.” Her voice is tinged with anxiety.

“Yes, Ms. Luthor. Nothing is broken. I just was calling to tell you that insurance covered everything, so you don’t need to compensate me for anything.”

“Oh,” she says. “I see.” An awkward silence falls over the line.

“Since everything is fine, I’m going to hang up now,” you inform her.

“Wait!” she cries. “I still - I still want to make this up to you somehow. Can I treat you to a cup of coffee or something?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Then...then how about lunch? What kind of food do you like?”

You think about this for a moment. “Potstickers,” you decide. “But you don’t have to -”

“Nonsense. This is the least I can do,” she insists. “Jess!” Her words are muffled for a moment as she tells Jess something, before she returns and rattles off an address to you. “This place supposedly has some of the best potstickers in town. How does tomorrow at noon sound?”

This is all moving a bit too fast for you. “Um -” you stop, collecting your thoughts. You really, really don’t want to go to lunch with Lena Luthor. And maybe that’s unfair because apart from accidentally hitting you in the face with a door, she really hasn’t done anything to you. Not technically. But you can’t stop thinking of Clark’s face in the casket, and you fumble for an excuse. “I’m not sure Ms. Grant will give me a long enough lunch break to make it all the way to that part of town.” It’s true, at least.

“Hm,” she says. “Then how about dinner? I’ll give you my personal number, and you can just text me when you get off work. I’ll have someone come by and pick you up.”

You know from experience that you’re bad with saying mean things in a nice way. For example, what you want to say is, “I really don’t want to have dinner with you,” and the nicest way you can think to say it is, “I don’t want dinner,” which is not really the point you’re trying to make. So instead you say, “okay,” and quietly jot down Lena Luthor’s cell phone number.

* * *

 

The end of the day rolls around painfully quickly, and you sigh, wondering if you can make an excuse not to go to dinner. But you’re not good at lying, and you don’t like the way you feel whenever you do, so you resign yourself. One dinner. One dinner, and then you’ll be done. You send Lena Luthor a text message.

Within ten minutes, a car arrives, and you hesitantly climb into the back seat. Although it’s 6:00 pm and the sun has nearly set, the driver is wearing a hat and sunglasses, which makes you a little uncomfortable. Your knee bounces the whole ten minute ride to the restaurant.

The restaurant itself is so obviously above your pay grade that you wonder if they’ll even let you in. You wouldn’t be opposed if they didn’t. But they let you in, and they take you to the table where Lena Luthor is waiting for you, in a fancy-looking dress that probably cost more than all you’ve made in the three months that you’ve been working for CatCo. You, on the other hand, are dressed simply in a old grey blazer and pink blouse, with matching grey dress pants. So you’re feeling understandably out of place. It sure doesn’t feel like the kind of place you order potstickers from.

But Lena Luthor greets you with a vibrant smile and gestures for you to sit, so you do. There’s already an order of potstickers on the table, plated so beautifully it feels like a crime to move them, so you don’t.

Her smile freezes up a bit when she looks closer at your face, and you’re terrified for a moment that she does know you after all. But her eyebrows twist up in sympathy and she says, “Your nose is all bruised. God, I am so sorry for that.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “It’s okay.” It isn’t, really.

“It’s really not,” she says, and you almost jump, thinking she’s read your mind. “But that’s why I’m here now.”

“Right,” you reply, uneasy. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Why are you so obsessed about this?”

“Pardon?” she asks, eyebrows raised, and you’re about to repeat the question when she suddenly smirks. “You mean I need a reason to obsess over a beautiful woman?”

That part is unexpected, but you push on, deciding not to think about it. “I meant, why the obsession with ‘making it right?’ Does that have to do with your brother?”

And you’ve never seen someone’s face shut down quite like Lena Luthor’s after you mention her brother. She’s silent for a long minute, and you consider just leaving it at that and running away.

“Does it make you uncomfortable that I’m related to Lex Luthor?”

You think about that. “Sometimes,” you say, too honest as usual, and she visibly flinches. “It’s not really that, though. I’m just not good at people in general. Strangers being kind to me. I was just surprised. Because you’re not what I thought you were.”

“And what did you think I was?” she says, face still unreadable.

You shrug. “A robot?” It sounds stupid, you know that, but it’s the first thing that comes into your mind.

She barks out a disbelieving laugh. “A _robot?”_

You nod, earnest. “Because when you were giving your testimony, I didn’t see a single emotion on your face,” you explain, forgetting momentarily that she doesn’t know.

“How did you -” she blinks. “Who the hell are you?”

You blink owlishly at her. “Kara Danvers. I told you already.”

“You were there that day? Why?” Her eyes are guarded and she suddenly looks ready to run.

You sigh, not wanting to answer, feeling relieved when the waiter arrives to take your order. Your stomach immediately drops again when Lena Luthor waves her away, saying, “We need a little more time to decide.”

She crosses her fingers under her chin, propping her elbows on the table. “I’m going to need you to answer my questions. Who are you, and what do you want?”

You frown. “I’m Kara Danvers, and I want to go home. You were the one who asked me to be here.”

She sighs. “Tell me why you were at the trial.”

You fiddle with the tablecloth under the table. “I was...I was with Lois.”

“Lois Lane?”

“Yes.”

“You’re related to her?”

“Not to her.”

She blinks, realization dawning. “To Clark.”

“My cousin,” you confirm. “He was taking care of me. Because my parents died.”

She nods, taking this in. “I see.”

You wait silently for her to say anything else, but she seems to be at a loss for words. The plate of potstickers sits untouched at the center of the table, and you feel like you might be sick. “Excuse me,” you say softly. “I appreciate you inviting me to dinner, but I think I’d like to go home now. I don’t really feel well.”

“Right. Yes, okay,” she mutters. “Okay,” she says again, heaving out a sigh. “I’ll call my driver for you.”

“It’s fine,” you respond. “I’ll just call an Uber.”

“That’s - you don’t have to -”

But you’re already turning, pulling your blazer tighter around you, fast-walking out of the restaurant.

When you get home, you call Alex and tell her everything. Her apartment is on the other side of the city, but she hops on her motorcycle and makes her way over immediately. She picks up potstickers and chow mein from the takeout place that you always order from, and the two of you sit on the couch and eat and watch reruns of _The Office_ in comfortable silence until you fall asleep.

* * *

 

The next morning, you receive a text message from Lena Luthor that just reads _Can we talk?_ And in your mind the answer is a resounding no, but you figure after all the information you dumped on her last night, it’s only fair. It’s a Saturday, so your job isn’t going to work as an excuse anyway.

Alex is still asleep on the couch, so you leave a note on the table saying you’re going to buy groceries and asking her to lock up when she leaves.

The two of you meet in a coffee shop about a ten minute walk from your apartment. She buys a coffee and gets you a hot tea. You sit across from her, sipping your tea quietly and watching her expectantly, waiting for her to say something.

With a sigh, she sets her coffee down. “Can I be honest with you?” she asks.

“Yes. ”

She rubs her neck. “I asked you here for completely selfish reasons.” She shrugs. “I needed to know.”

“Know what?”

She takes a deep breath. “Do you think I’m like my brother?”

This question gives you pause, because it’s one that you’ve been thinking about yourself. You think about it for a long moment, and finally, you say, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I don’t really know you. And I’m not sure I knew your brother. I just knew Clark, and then I knew he was gone, but neither of you mattered at that point anyway. Because Clark was gone. So...I don’t think it matters if you’re like your brother.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Doesn’t matter...if only everyone thought that way. You know, I’ve spent my whole life since the trial having to prove to people that I’m not like him. And going the extra mile to do just that, and still no one is convinced. Sometimes _I’m_ not even convinced.”

You ponder this for a moment. “Maybe that’s why people don’t believe you. Because you don’t believe yourself.”

She scoffs a little at that. “Maybe you’re right. But I don’t know how to convince myself.”

This is feeling a little familiar, somehow. You scratch your chin. “Ever since I was little, people...people have had a hard time dealing with me. I don’t understand a lot of stuff that most people do. Social things. Or emotions. How to make the truth kinder. Or at least sound kinder, you know?”

“Ye-es?” she says, voice lilting upwards in question.

“So a lot of people got frustrated, or upset with me all the time. And so I figured there was something wrong with me. So when Clark took me in, I told him he probably wasn’t going to like me very much. And he laughed and asked me why. I told him it was because I wasn’t good at anything. And he laughed again and said that everyone has something to like about them, we just have to give them a chance. Then he said, ‘Nice to meet you, Kara. My name is Clark,’ and he shook my hand.”

Lena Luthor’s eyes have been fixed on yours through the whole story. You’re not great at telling stories, truth be told, so you think the point might not be getting through.

“So...what I’m saying is,” you close your eyes and breathe out, then open them to meet Lena Luthor’s questioning gaze. You hold out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Lena. My name is Kara.”

And so, in a tiny coffee shop in downtown National City, Kara and Lena meet for the first time. And that seems just a little bit extraordinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this happened. so it turns out it's not quite a love story but it's probably the start of one, so who knows. maybe there'll be a part 2. (probably not.) i do want to write a companion from lena's perspective, but i dunno if i'll get around to that either.
> 
> to be honest, i didn't really know how i was going to end this story when i started it. originally, i wanted it to end with a more concrete relationship, but i think i'll leave that for another time. anyway, i was pretty nervous to upload this because i've never written a character in this way before, and i don't want to get it wrong. i still don't know if i did. let me know if things need fixing, i'll be happy to do so.
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> edit: there have been a few people asking for a part 2...i'm nothing if not a people pleaser. it's in the works my friends (which really means it'll be out any time between tomorrow and next year). thank you for your lovely comments.


	2. part ii (in which the coffee shop saves them again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! *wipes forehead* it's finally done, all 6k words of it. hope you enjoy!

You learn a number of things about Lena in the months that follow.

She’s meticulous. She says that’s your nice way of calling her neurotic. You tell her you don’t have nice ways to say anything. In any case, she’s detail-oriented and she likes things done exactly right. She hates, more than anything, the idea of something left half-done.

She owns a beautiful and impossibly expensive penthouse apartment that she sometimes doesn’t go back to for days at a time because she spends so much time at work.You think this qualifies as “too much” working, but have yet to convince her on that front.

She’s trying to rebrand LuthorCorp - rather, L-Corp - and free herself of the weight of the Luthor name. She’s succeeding, for the most part. But she credits this more to the business world’s lack of morals than her own spotless record.

Once every other month, she goes to National City Penitentiary to see her brother. She wants to go more often, but she worries what the media will think. They already murmur that Lex Luthor is still pulling the strings, even from behind bars. She still frets about the distinction between distancing herself from her Lex Luthor’s actions and distancing herself from Lex Luthor. You, as always, are unsure of how to comfort her about this. You want to tell her that it’s a blessing that she gets to see him at all, but Alex informs you that it would probably only make her feel worse, and all you really want to do is make her feel better.

In all honesty, you weren’t really expecting to become _friends_ with Lena. The proverbial olive branch that you had extended to her in the coffee shop had been more of a _let’s not be enemies_ than a _let’s be friends._ To begin with, you’re not great at being friends with people. You have Winn and James from work, and to some extent you think Cat Grant is your friend (although you have to stretch the definition a little bit). And obviously you have Alex, and Lois and Lucy, too. But you don’t have that many friendships that extend beyond obligatory office socialization (and even with that, you have the bare minimum). So it really should have felt like being thrown into the deep end the time you got a call from Lena at one thirty in the morning asking your opinion on L-Corp’s most recent publicity campaign. (It’s well past your bedtime, but Lena has no bedtime - you’re not 100% convinced she sleeps at all - and you don’t tell her she woke you up.)

But the truth of the matter is that it was all unnaturally natural. You really don’t understand how or when it happens, but it becomes a regular occurrence for you to text her a _Good morning! :)_ before heading to work. And rather than sending a _good morning_ back, she typically opts for an undecipherable combination of emojis. Alex finds her propensity toward emojis simultaneously endearing and off-putting, which you think is probably a plus in Lena’s favor. It’s no secret that Alex isn’t a fan of Lena, but Alex also isn’t really a fan of anybody, so you’re not super worried about that. 

* * *

This morning’s emoji combo is a stack of pancakes, that creepy moon face, and a volcano. The pancakes are probably what she ate for breakfast, and the moon...you peek out the window. Sure enough, a white ghost of the moon hangs high in the sky, seemingly uncaring that it’s nearly eight in the morning and the sun has long since risen. As for the volcano...you’re still not quite sure on that one. Still, you think you got two out of three this morning, which is better than your average score of 0.

The rest of the day is uneventful - or at least, as uneventful as a day can be with Cat Grant as your boss - until you get an unexpected text from Lena: _Are you free for dinner tonight? My treat._ This is punctuated by a number of seemingly unrelated emojis.

Despite the fact that the two of you have been texting fairly regularly, you haven’t actually had a face-to-face meeting since the coffee shop. This is in part due to your busy schedules. Cat Grant’s career is relentlessly active, and by extension so is yours. And Lena, obviously, works tirelessly to rebuild her company’s image from the ground up. So there’s not much free time to be had.

But it’s also by design that you haven’t yet had another in person meeting. The information age has been a true blessing on your social anxiety - interactions are always a little easier through a screen for you. It’s just simpler - you can take long pauses and it’s not considered awkward or rude, you can ask Alex what she thinks, you can look up references and jokes you don’t understand. You’ve maintained a few friendships online over the years - like Barry Allen, a friendly tutor who had helped you in one of your Gen-Ed chemistry courses back in university. In your experience, those relationships tend to last longer anyway.

So you’ve generally come up with half-hearted excuses not to meet Lena the few times that she’s asked. You’re a little worried that without the pretense of “ _needing to know,”_ she’ll see you for who you are - and you’ve come to terms with that person, but not everyone else does.

The point being, this time shouldn’t really have been different from any of the others, and you normally would have just made up an excuse again. But for whatever reason, you don’t. Maybe it’s that today has been a good day - the workload was relatively small, and you had finished early. Maybe it’s that your stomach is empty and you’ve been starving since early in the afternoon. Maybe you’re just a little concerned she’ll think you hate her again. Regardless of why, when the keyboard comes up, your fingers type out four letters and hit send before you’ve even thought about it: _Sure._

It’s clearly not the response Lena was expecting either, because the three dots pop up and disappear a few times before she finally responds _Great! What would you like to eat?_ Your mind goes straight to pizza, but you remember that you (sort of) got to pick last time, so you reply, _Whatever you want. But please nothing too fancy._ She decides on a little Italian place just down the street from CatCo, so you don’t have to take a cab or bus.

You’re nervous about it, obviously. But strangely enough, despite all of your fears, you find yourself looking forward to it as well. 

* * *

 

Dinner starts off more or less how you expected - forced small talk and awkward silences punctuated by cleared throats. You don’t really know what to talk about, so you let Lena take the lead, but it feels a little off. She’s unsure of what to say as well, and suddenly you’re feeling like this might not have been such a great idea.

But for the first time in such a long time, you’re not prepared to let it go just like this. Watching the slightly nervous woman across from you, it occurs to you that you actually know more about her than you expected - a side effect of texting her all these weeks. If there’s one thing you know Lena is passionate about, it’s her work. So, recalling a recent text conversation, you bring it up - some specialized hearing aid that she and her research team are working on.

And you’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone’s face light up the way Lena’s does when she starts talking about it. Her hands leave the utensils on her plate, gesticulating wildly as she launches into an in-depth explanation of the project, and her eyes glint with genuine excitement, lips curled upward at the corners. And even though you don’t really understand the technical aspects of it, you find yourself leaning forward, rapt.

“-and even though we’re still in the early stages of development, we’re pretty optimistic. With the new materials, the cost drops dramatically, and we can make them more affordable for people with...lower incomes…” she trails off.

“What?” you ask, confused by the strange look she’s giving you.

“You’re smiling,” she says.

And you are, although you hadn’t really noticed it before. “It’s - is that weird?” you reply, suddenly a little apprehensive, lips dipping into a frown.

“No, it’s just...I’ve never seen you smile before.”

“Oh,” you say. “I was just thinking that I’m glad we did this.”

She looks surprised for a moment, then she smiles a brilliant smile at you. “Really? I was worried I was boring you with all this talk of work.”

“Not at all,” you say. “In fact, I’m a little disappointed that you stopped.”

Her smile only widens, and you find yourself grinning back in response. “Where was I, then?”

When you get home later that evening, you receive a text from Lena that says, _Thanks for dinner, I had a wonderful time!_ followed by the usual string of bizarre emojis. You reply with a _Me too :)_ and this time when you send the smiley face, it reflects the grin on your own lips.

The two of you form a habit of going to dinner every Friday, and there are still little awkward moments, but every time feels a little easier. And every time, you look forward to it a little more. 

* * *

 

Change comes unexpectedly when you call in sick one Friday morning. You’ve been running a fever since last night, and the last time you had come in to work sick, Cat Grant had nearly had an aneurysm on the spot. You send Alex a text letting her know, then you send Lena one as well, cancelling your dinner plans.

Alex comes to see you in the afternoon, right before she heads off for a shift at the hospital. She takes your temperature, gives you some medicine, and instructs you to rest. All pretty typical for you when you get sick.

What you aren’t expecting however, is the knock at your door that comes around 6:30, and you almost fall over when you see Lena through the eyehole.

You open the door nervously. “Lena, what are you doing here?” It’s probably not the best way you could have worded the question, but the cold medicine is still affecting your brain a little.

She frowns in concern. “Wow, your voice sounds _awful,”_ is the first thing out of her mouth. “I mean - because of your sickness, not that you - your voice is normally really nice -” she clears her throat, smiling sheepishly at you. “I brought soup,” she offers, holding up a plastic bag with a plastic container inside.

Still confused, you nod and stand aside to let her come in. Closing the door behind her, you ask, “How did you know where I live?”

She sets the bag on the kitchen table, glancing around your apartment. “Alex came by my office this afternoon. She couldn’t stay to take care of you, and she was worried you wouldn’t eat. And in her words, ‘I’m not letting Schott and Olsen into my sick sister’s apartment while she’s by herself.’”

“Hmm,” you mumble in response, still trying to wrap your mind around the current situation.

“Who are Schott and Olsen anyway? And why aren’t they allowed in here?” she asks curiously.

“Winn and James from work,” you answer, peeking in the bag. Chicken soup. “There was...an incident, a while back. Not with them. But a guy we all used to be close to.”

“What kind of incident?”

You pause halfway through pulling the soup out. “A fight.” You set the container on the kitchen table.

She’s watching you with an unreadable expression now. “A fight?”

“Yes,” you nod your head, pulling a plastic spoon out of the bag. “In fairness, I threw the first punch.”

This startles her. “You - what?”

“I punched him first. In the face,” you say around a mouthful of soup. “I’m normally very against violence, but he was being a jerk.”

“And then what happened?”

“Then we fought.”

Her arms are folded across her chest, and her eyes narrow just a little. “Did he hit you?”

“Well, he didn’t mean to, but -”

“What was his name?”

You shrug, avoiding eye contact. “Doesn’t matter. He’s not in National City anymore.” Even now, Mike Matthew’s name tastes a little sour on your tongue, despite the fact that you’re not exactly blameless in the whole thing yourself.

Thankfully, Lena doesn’t press the subject, and you finish your soup quietly. She sits across the table from you, fingers tapping a quiet rhythm on the side of her chair.

“Did you already eat?” you ask her.

“Yeah, right before I came over,” she says. “Um - I should let you get back to sleep.” She gets up, making for the door.

The sight of her leaving fills you with an odd sense of anxiety. “Wait,” you call after her. “I’ve slept way too much already, and I’m feeling a lot better. Do you want to maybe stay? We could watch a movie or something.”

She raises an eyebrow at you skeptically.

You laugh a little. “You can take my temperature if you’re not convinced,” you offer.

She takes you up on this, and only when the thermometer comes up a steady 98.4 degrees Fahrenheit does she ask what movie you want to watch.

“You’re the guest here, why don’t you pick?”

“You’re the patient here, I think _you_ should pick,” she counters.

With a grin, you reply, “Then I hope you’re okay with copious amounts of Pixar.”

“Sounds perfect,” she grins back. You fetch your laptop from your room, hooking it up to the TV and pulling up Netflix.

The movie you end up watching doesn’t actually end up being a Pixar film. You had been shocked to learn that Lena hadn’t seen _Kubo and the Two Strings,_ and you insist that her life won’t be complete until she does. It’s an exaggeration, obviously, but not by much. You curl up on the couch with a blanket, patting the spot next to you. She’s a little stiff at first, but as the movie starts up, she starts to relax bit by bit.

Lena claims she doesn’t get emotional when watching movies, but by the end, you catch her discreetly rubbing the corners of her eyes.

It’s still early when the credits roll, and tomorrow is a weekend anyway, so the two of you decide to watch another. As you settle in for _Coco_ , you wonder if it’s normal to feel this content. 

* * *

 

At some point, you’d fallen asleep on the couch with Lena, so when the sound of the door opening startles you awake, you’re a little disoriented. Sunlight is filtering in through the windows, and you squint to adjust your eyesight. Turning to look at the door, you see Alex, frozen in place, staring at you and Lena, who is still lightly snoring next to you.

“Morning, Alex,” you whisper, and you realize your throat already feels a lot better than it did yesterday. Lena stirs, glancing around blearily.

“Wha-?” Taking in her surroundings, she suddenly sits bolt upright. “Shit! What time is it?”

Alex, still wide-eyed, tells her. “Nine thirty.”

“Um, I better - I better go. Kara, I’ll see you next week.” Standing up quickly, she grabs her sweater and phone from the coffee table and rushes past Alex, out the door. Alex watches her go, then turns back to you incredulously.

You shrug helplessly. “I was feeling a lot better, so we did a movie night.”

“A...movie night.”

“Yeah.”

She sighs, moving up to you to feel your forehead. “Well, if you’re all recovered, then I guess I can tell Maggie that we’re back on for lunch today.”

You frown. “I keep telling you not to cancel your plans for me.”

“I didn’t _cancel,_ we just postponed,” Alex insists. “Anyway,” she says, “what’s the deal with you and Luthor there? She spent the night?”

“Well, she didn’t _mean_ to, we just fell asleep while watching movies.”

“Right. So you guys are pretty close now?”

You think about it. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And you’re sure she doesn’t have any other, er, motives for getting close to you?”

“What kind of motives would she have?” you ask, confused.

“Revenge for her brother going to jail?” Alex tries.

“No, she’s trying to move away from her brother’s influence. She wouldn’t spend all that time and money and energy rebranding her company if she was just looking for revenge. Besides, she didn’t even know I was related to Clark at first.” You’re surprised at how easily you jump to Lena’s defense.

“Well, it would be pretty great PR for her company to be friends with the family of Clark Kent.”

“She -” you pause. You hadn’t thought of this before. “I don’t think so. I don’t think she would do that. Besides, you’re the one who asked her to come over.”

“Just to make sure you were still alive and to drop off some soup. I didn’t think you guys were close enough for her to spend the night.”

“I didn’t really either. It just sort of happened.” She’s looking at you, unconvinced. “Look,” you point out, “I don’t really know for sure. But I don’t know for sure about _anyone,_ and something about Lena feels...right, I guess. Eliza always says to go with my gut, and my gut says she’s a good person.”

Alex sighs. “Well, I’ll trust you on this one. For now. But be careful, ok? People like that...you can’t be too careful.”

You don’t exactly like the implication of “people like that,” but you nod anyway. “Whatever you say, Alex.” 

* * *

 

Lucy comes to visit on a Friday, so you cancel dinner plans with Lena. You feel bad about it, but you haven’t seen Lucy in months, and probably won’t get another chance for a while once she leaves, and you’re determined to make the most of this weekend with her. Although you love(d) Clark and Lois like family, Lucy was the first friend you’d made that hadn’t really been obligated to spend time with you. You’d understood very clearly, even at a young age, the important distinction between guardianship and friendship. Clark and Lois _had_ to care about you, but Lucy didn’t, and still cared anyway.  And she’s going to be busy with work for the rest of the week, so your only chance to see her while she’s in National City is now.

She arrives at your door with an expensive bottle of wine and a half smirk, and while you’re not a touchy-feely person, you can’t help but hug her.

“Long time no see, Kara,” she laughs, hugging you back, and the two of you settle in for dinner.

The two of you settle into the easy rhythm that you’ve always had - which mostly involves her chattering away about the recent events in her life, while you listen intently.

“Oh,” she says suddenly. “I just remembered. Lois mentioned something kinda weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, apparently there’s some rumors flying around at the _Daily Planet._ Something ‘bout you and Lena Luthor getting all chummy. She was kinda upset about it, but I told her it’s all just tabloid bullshit, you know? I mean, the photos were so blurry, it’s impossible to tell who the other woman is. As if there’s not a couple hundred other blondes of your height and build in National City.”

“Photos?” you question, getting nervous now. “What kind of photos?”

Lucy shrugs. “Dunno, some photos that some ‘inside source’ sold to the _Daily Planet._ All the reporters are falling over themselves trying to figure out who Lena Luthor’s new ‘lady friend’ is. Lois was convinced it was you for a minute. Lucky for you, the rest of the media has no idea who you are, or at least where you’ve been since the trial. But the idea of you hanging out with Lena Luthor, of all people,” she laughs. “What are the chances?”

You look down at your spaghetti, appetite suddenly lost. “Um,” you say.

Her grin falls a little. “Kara. Tell me you’re not -”

“Wait,” you mutter. “Hold on, I need to...process what’s happening right now.”

She stays respectfully silent as you push up your glasses to pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing. “Okay,” you say. “Have the photos been published yet?”

“Not that I know of,” she says slowly. “I imagine they’ll be going up in the next couple of days, though. Kara, is everything okay?”

“No,” you say automatically. “Well - maybe. I don’t know.”

“So you’re actually dating Lena Luthor?”

“Not dating,” you correct her. “We’re just friends.”

She’s looking at you weirdly now, and you sort of get it. For you, even _just friends_ is a big deal. The problem, though, is that you forgot. Again. The thing with Lena had progressed so effortlessly that you forgot to stop and think. Lois’s feelings hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“I - I should call Lois, right?” you ask, already pulling out your phone.

“I dunno,” she replies. “What are you planning on saying?”

You’re not sure, but you’re already dialing.

She picks up on the third ring.

“Kara, hey. What’s up?”

“Hey, Lois,” you say, then stop. The silence drags on painfully.

“Everything okay, hon?” she finally asks.

No, you want to say. “I’m sorry,” is what you blurt instead.

“What? What are you sorry about?”

“The thing with Lena. I didn’t mean to become friends with her. I’m sorry if it made you upset.”

This time the silence comes from her end.

“Lois?”

You hear her let out a long sigh. “I’m okay, Kara. I’d be lying if I said it’s all fine by me, but I’m not angry at you, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. “But Lois?”

“Yeah, hon?”

“I think you should give Lena a chance. I didn’t want to at first either, but...I remembered how Clark gave me a chance when he took me in. And I think it’s hard to be kind sometimes, but a chance is an easy place to start.”

“...I know,” Lois replies after another pause, “but I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. I’m glad that you are, though, Kara, really.”

“Okay,” you say again. “Do you want to say anything to Lucy?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll see her when she comes back up to Metropolis. You should come and visit sometime as well. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I will. Talk to you later.”

“See you, kiddo.”

You hang up the phone with a sigh of relief. That went much better than you’d hoped.

“All good?” Lucy asks with a tentative smile.

“Yeah,” you tell her.

“Good,” she says, grin widening, “because now you’re gonna tell me all about how you ended up friends with Lena Luthor.” 

* * *

 

You’re prepared for the _I-told-you-so_ look that Alex gives you when you explain to her about the photos. You maintain that it’s not some vaguely sinister plot of Lena’s, but Alex remains unconvinced. You don’t exactly blame her, as it’s not uncommon for people to take advantage of you.

Alex stares disapprovingly at the photos that Lois had sent you. “I’m not saying you have to stop hanging out with her. I’m just saying it’s worth talking about with her. Understanding what she wants.”

“Yeah, okay,” you sigh in response.

“Anyway,” she says, “how was Lucy?” She fidgets strangely, suddenly not making eye contact.

Bewildered, you shrug. “The same as always, I guess. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” says Alex, too quickly, before she retreats to the kitchen to make some coffee. You notice, oddly enough, that her ears are flushed red as you watch her go. 

* * *

 

You meet up with Lena the following Friday evening, as per usual. She looks so genuinely happy to see you that you’re tempted just to leave it at that. But you’ve already decided that you need the truth, for Alex’s sake if nothing else.

As per usual, you lack the ability to bring it up tactfully, and it eats away at you all through dinner. Lena speaks animatedly about her most recent project, eyes shining, and you nibble at your food, only half listening.

Finally, as the waiter sets down dessert, you manage to say, “Lena, we need to talk.”

She immediately pauses, concern in her eyes. “Sure, what’s going on?”

“Well…” you stop, sighing helplessly. “Alex is a little worried. About you.”

“About me?”

You take a breath. “She thinks you have...ulterior motives.”

Lena’s face freezes up, and she suddenly looks a little pale. “What - what kind of ulterior motives?”

You’re no expert on reading emotions, but you’ve been around Lena often enough to know about her nervous tics. Her eyes shift around, not meeting yours, and her right hand goes to the back of her neck, scratching at the bottom of her scalp. And now you’re a little nervous, too. Because you were pretty sure you were right about Lena, but now Alex’s _I-told-you-so_ look is replaying in your head, and you’re thinking that if the truth isn’t what you originally thought it was, you’re not sure you want to hear it at all.

Lena is still glancing anywhere but at you, and the silence is growing too uncomfortable for you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you say, “Did you have those photos taken?”

It’s very obviously not what she was expecting to hear, because she’s staring at you like you’d just sprouted another head.

“I - _what?”_

“The photos that were sent to the _Daily Planet._ Of you and me.”

“Photos? I -” she stops herself, rubbing her forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m really not following what you’re saying.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “So it wasn’t you?”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Some ‘inside source’ sent photos of us eating dinner to the Daily Planet a few days ago. Alex was worried that you might be using me for some kind of publicity stunt, I guess. To improve the image of your company or something.”

“I...see,” Lena replies. “And...what did _you_ think?”

“I figured she was overreacting,” you reply with a half-shrug. “But I’ve been wrong before. So I wanted to make sure.”

She smiles weakly at you. “That makes sense, I guess. For the record, I didn’t have any photos of us taken, and if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll gladly track down whoever did and put a stop to it.”

You consider this. “It’s probably fine,” you decide. “Lucy said that most of the reporters at the _Daily Planet_ don’t recognize me in the photo. And besides,” you add as an afterthought, “I don’t mind being good PR for your company.”

She’s looking at you strangely. “And why’s that?” she asks, sounding oddly nervous again.

You give her an equally strange look back. “Because L-Corp is doing great things. And you’ve put so much effort into making a positive impact on the world. If any company deserves good publicity, it’s yours.”

She nods, looking down a little. “Thank you for saying that.”

The two of you finish your dessert in relative silence. But as you part ways at the restaurant entrance, she calls after you suddenly. Turning around, you’re startled to find her right behind you, out of breath.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

“No,” she pants. “Uh - Alex was right about me having an ulterior motive. But - it’s not the one she’s thinking of.”

You’re about to question what she means when she cups your cheeks in her palms and leans up to press a soft kiss to your lips. It’s so abrupt that you don’t have time to process what’s happened before she’s pulling away and running back to her car. “I’ll see you next week!” she calls breathlessly.

You can only watch her go, utterly floored. 

* * *

 

The ensuing 24 hours passes in a daze, with only one thing on your mind. Lena had sent a follow up text that evening, saying _We don’t have to talk about it if you were upset by it._ When you failed to reply, she had added an _I’m sorry,_ and _Can I call you?_ to which you had responded with _I need some time to think._ She hasn’t texted you since, which leaves you sitting on your sofa, staring blankly at the dark television screen in front of you. You decide to kill time and distract yourself by watching Netflix, and before you realize, most of the day has gone by.

Eventually, you ask Alex to come over. She arrives with some pizza for dinner and concern in her eyes.

“Everything go okay last night?” is the first thing she asks you when you open the door for her.

“Hello to you, too,” you mutter, helping her with the boxes.

“Hello,” she corrects herself. Then, “Everything go okay last night?”

You sigh. “Well, I’m pretty sure she’s not doing what you thought she was.”

“But…?” Alex prompts, all-knowing as always. She steps inside and starts setting up all the food on the coffee table so the two of you can sit on the sofa and eat.

“But she kissed me,” you sigh. “And I’m not sure what to do about it.”

To her credit, Alex only looks mildly surprised. “Well…” she pauses. “How did it make you feel?”

You shrug, pulling off a slice of pizza. “I don’t know. I didn’t... _hate_ it. But it all happened so fast, I didn’t really know what was going on until she had already left.”

“Then does the thought of doing it again freak you out?”

“Well, yeah. But the thought of kissing anyone kind of freaks me out. I’m not exactly girlfriend material.”

For that, Alex throws a piece of pepperoni between your eyes. Wrinkling your nose and glaring at her, you pull it off and pop it in your mouth. “Don’t be gross, Alex.”

“Don’t be an idiot, then.” She rolls her eyes back at you. “The point is, could you see yourself being with her, the same way Mom and Dad are together, or me and -” She cuts herself off suddenly, blushing, and you lean forward with interest.

“You and _who,_ Alex?” you ask with a smirk. The last relationship Alex had been in had ended three months ago, and she hadn’t mentioned anything about her dating life since.

“It’s nothing,” she grumbles. “We’re talking about _you_ here.”

With a sigh, you let it go. You figure she’ll tell you when she’s ready. “I’ve never thought of Lena that way before.”

“Keyword being ‘before,’” Alex replies meaningfully. “How about right now, in this moment, how do you feel?”

You think long and hard about it. “Lena is...important to me. And I’ve never had a friend like her. I think...if - if I had the chance to make her as happy as she makes me, then I would take it. And this kinda feels like it might be that.”

“Kara,” Alex mumbles around a bite of pizza. “That was the gayest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“So you’re saying…” you trail off, looking at her expectantly.

“I’m _saying_ that _you_ were the one who was talking big about her gut feeling, and now it seems like you’re scared to listen to it.”

“I’m surprised you’re not more disapproving of this.”

“Oh, trust me, Luthor is in for the shovel talk of a lifetime. I may even bring an actual shovel. And a handgun. Don’t look at me like that, I’m kidding,” she rolls her eyes at you. You’re not so sure she is. “Anyway, in the end, it’s not my decision what you do here. It _has_ to be yours, Kara, and it seems like your heart already made it, even if your brain doesn’t know yet.”

You nod. “Yeah. Thanks, Alex. Also, please don’t threaten to kill Lena.”

“I promise I won’t threaten to _kill_ her.”

You don’t justify that with a response, and instead turn back to your pizza, polishing off another slice.

After a few minutes, you say, “You’re a good sister, Alex.”

She scoffs. “Don’t I know it.” 

* * *

 

You call Lena the next morning. She picks up halfway through the first ring.

“Kara!” Her voice sounds a little shaky. You’re feeling a little shaky yourself.

“Hey, let’s meet somewhere. I think it’s better to do this in person.” More accurately, Alex had thought it would be better to do it in person, and you had conceded despite your reservations.

“Sure! Sure,” she agrees quickly. “Where do you want to meet?”

“How about the coffee shop from last time?”

“Okay, that sounds great.” Her voice is tinged with nervousness. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Sounds good,” you reply. “See you there.”

You get there early and fidget nervously with a paper cup of steaming hot chocolate as you wait for Lena to arrive. When she does, you can’t help but notice her eyes have dark bags under them. “Hi,” you greet her weakly.

“Hi,” she says back hesitantly.

There’s an awkward pause, then she clears her throat. “I just want you to know - I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you without warning like that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just - I’ve had these feelings for such a long time, and that night, it just felt like if I didn’t _do_ something, I wouldn’t have another chance. Probably the better option would have been to just talk to you, but I just got so nervous and freaked out -”

“Lena,” you cut her off gently. “It’s fine. Just listen to me, okay?”

She coughs, blushing. “Okay.”

“I’m not good at romance, you know,” you start, recalling the speech you had rehearsed in your head all of last night. “I’m barely good at basic friendship, so romance has never really been my thing. I have a lot of my own issues that I don’t think other people should have to deal with. And that’s just how I am. But,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ romance, or that I don’t feel things the same way other people do. It’s just that I don’t really know how to be with someone. And I thought about that a lot since the other night. I don’t know so many things, Lena, about love or dating, but all I know is that you come naturally to me. That you make _sense_ in ways that no one else does. And I don’t know if that’s love, or something else, I just know that you’re _special._ And I don’t want to ever lose that.”

She’s staring at you, eyes glistening. “So I want to give this a try,” you finish, quiet. “If you’re willing.”

A smile cracks her tired face. “Of course,” she laughs a little. “Of course I’m willing, Kara.”

“Good,” you reply with a smile of your own. “Because that would have been a really embarrassing speech if you weren’t.”

She nods, then her face turns serious. “Kara, I know this isn’t something you’re used to, so we can take it as slow as you want. If there’s ever something you’re not comfortable doing, just tell me, okay? If this is going to work, we have to be a team.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “The same applies to you, you know.”

She blushes a little. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay with anything you want to do to - _with_ me,” she mumbles.

You blush a little yourself, feeling strangely shy.

“So,” you say, feeling warmth light up your chest as she hooks her pinky with yours under the table. “Where do we start?”

She grins back at you, the corners of her eyes crinkling a bit, and you swear she was never this pretty before.

“How about right here?”

* * *

 

_(epilogue_

She walks you home after the two of you spend the entire morning just chatting in the coffee shop, and right before she turns to leave, you press a quick kiss to her cheek. You’re both blushing like middle schoolers, and you see her fingers lingering on the spot on her cheek as she walks away. It feels right, somehow.

True to her word, Alex shows up at Lena’s office one morning with a large shovel slung over one shoulder - but no handgun, at your request. Lena is understandably traumatized by the whole thing, but you’re more than happy to comfort her with hugs and cuddling afterwards.

The two of you show up on the cover of the _Daily Planet_ a few weeks later, although it’s not one of the blurry photos that Lois had sent you before. It’s an objectively nicer photo of the two of you, smiling at each other, arm in arm, entering one of the fancy galas that L-Corp is hosting. The headline is something kitschy about a “Luthor love story,” which Lucy teases you endlessly about. Even so, the photo is lovely enough that even Lois calls to quietly congratulate you.

Most ordinary things are still hard for you, even now. But with Lena’s hand in yours, the only thing that seems impossible is letting go. And if that’s as close to extraordinary that you ever get, then it’s more than enough.)

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man this took forever. i honestly hit a wall while writing it, then went on vacation, then got sick, and then kinda forgot about it. but i came back! and i got it done and i am v nervous because i know people enjoyed part i and i hope i didn't ruin it with part ii. i wanted to take more time to keep revising and editing it but i've been putting it off for so long and i have a bad habit of not updating for months and months. so i decided to just post it and hope for the best! i know it's a bit of a corny ending, but i feel like after all the angsty bs i've written, i need some happy wholesome gays in my world so that's what happened!
> 
> on a somewhat unrelated topic, have you ever heard the song "first day of my life" by bright eyes? i think it's a pretty appropriate mood for this whole thing. it inspired a bit of kara's speech at the end.
> 
> i know i don't reply to comments that much (or like, at all) mainly bc i'm lazy and a bad person, but i'd like you all to know that i read all of them and appreciate them. so thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos and all that good stuff. it really makes my day :)


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